Jaine Austen Mystery: Killing Cupid Part 7

"The piano player," he said. "He's playing 'Misty.' "

And so he was, a very lovely rendition of it.

"That was Miss Marple's favorite song," Skip said, blinking back tears.

(In case you're interested, Miss Marple's favorite movie was Three Coins in the Fountain, and her favorite TV show was Green Acres. All fun facts I'd gleaned during dinner.) "Let's go listen," Skip pleaded.

I was about to say no, but then I saw something that made me change my mind-large bowls of mixed nuts on the tables.

After the anemic plate of steamed veggies I'd choked down for dinner, those nuts looked mighty tempting.

"Okay," I said. "But just for a few minutes."

Skip led me to a table right up front near the pianist, who was still belting out "Misty."

The minute we sat down, I reached for the bowl of nuts and held on to them with a viselike grip.

Take these away, I felt like warning Skip, and you're a dead man.

But Skip wasn't interested in the nuts. His eyes were closed, lost no doubt in memories of Miss Marple.

We gave our orders to a c.o.c.ktail waitress: celery tonic for Skip and organic chardonnay for moi.

The minute she was gone, I wasted no time diving into those nuts, picking out the cashews first, then chomping down on some Brazil nuts. I offered some to Skip, but thank heavens, he waved them away.

I'd just finished fishing out a particularly tasty Brazil nut when I looked up and saw the piano player staring at me and smiling in a most seductive manner.

Good heavens. Was he actually flirting with me?

Skip seemed to think so.

"I don't like the way that man is looking at you," he said, glaring at the piano player and taking a stiff shot of his celery tonic.

"Don't be silly," I whispered. "I'm sure he smiles at all the patrons."

But I was wrong. The handsome, dark-haired pianist kept his eyes on me, and me only, all the while beaming me his seductive smile.

Hmm. Maybe this date wasn't turning out so bad, after all. Maybe the pianist would turn out to be the man of my dreams, and maybe someday we'd be telling our grandchildren how we fell in love at first sight over a bowl of mixed nuts.

"No, I don't like it," Skip was saying, shooting daggers at the piano player. "Not one bit. He's got a nerve staring at you like that."

"I'm sure it means nothing, Skip," I said, praying I was wrong.

We sat through a few more tunes, Skip growing angrier with each slug of his celery tonic. Finally when the pianist had not taken his eyes off me for twelve consecutive minutes, Skip banged down his gla.s.s.

"That does it!" he cried, getting up.

"Please, Skip. People are staring."

And indeed everyone in the joint was looking at him.

But Skip didn't care.

Shoving back his chair, he stomped over to the piano player.

"My good man," he sputtered, "I resent the way you have been leering at my fiancee all night."

His fiancee???

I almost choked on a filbert.

Since when had we gotten engaged? Was it possible he'd proposed during dinner and I'd missed it? Had I dozed off some time during the cauliflower course?

"I may be of advanced years," Skip was saying, "but I am a master in the art of fisticuffs. Shall we take this out into the alley?"

"Okay, dude," said the handsome pianist, smiling serenely, "but first I'm going to have to get Lucy."

Lucy? We hadn't even gone on our first date, and already there was another woman.

"C'mere, Lucy, honey!"

And then out from behind a curtain came a dog with a harness. The pianist got up and reached for a cane I'd failed to notice on top of his piano.

Yikes. Lucy was a Seeing Eye dog, and the guy who'd fallen in love with me at first sight was blind.

Cancel that honeymoon.

"I'm so sorry, my good man," Skip said, tossing a fifty-dollar bill in the tip jar. "I had no idea...."

He rejoined me at our table and all around us, I could hear people buzzing in pity for the poor piano player, outraged at the scene Skip had just caused.

"I don't care how old he is. He's still a bully," I heard one lady say.

"And what about his date?" I heard her husband reply. "Did you see the way she sucked up those nuts? Like a vacuum cleaner."

I sat there, shrinking with embarra.s.sment as my former true love finished his set.

"Shall we go?" Skip asked brightly when it was all over, as if he hadn't just humiliated himself (and moi) in front of a roomful of jazz lovers.

Head bowed in shame, I followed Skip out the door, ignoring the dirty looks boring into our backs.

"Care for a nut?" I heard someone snicker behind my back.

"Nah," another wise guy cried out. "She's already dating one."

A perfect ending to my Date of Joy.

Joy sprang from her office to greet me when I showed up at work the next day, eager to hear about my date with Skip.

"So how was it?" she asked.

"Like the Hindenburg, with cauliflower."

Okay, so what I really said was: "Skip's a very nice guy, but I don't think I want to see him again."

"Oh, but you have to! It's a Dates of Joy rule. You've got to give every potential love mate at least three chances."

Oh, no. No way in h.e.l.l was I going out with Skip again. A girl has her limits.

"Sorry, Joy. I'm a writer, not a member of your club. You set me up so I could get a picture of how the club works. I got the picture. I don't need to see any more."

I stood back and braced myself for Hurricane Joy to strike again.

But much to my surprise, she pursed her lips in a pout and put on a Poor Me look.

"Oh, dear," she sighed. "Skip's a very important client. I need to stay on his good side. And he really likes you. He already called to tell me so. If I throw in an extra five hundred bucks to your pay, will you follow my three-date rule?"

Good Lord. Did she actually think I was the kind of woman who'd pimp myself out and date a man I had absolutely no interest in for a few extra dollars?

If so, she knew me well.

"Three dates, it is," I said with a feeble smile.

Oh, don't go shaking your head like that.

Somebody had to pay to keep Prozac up to her furry little neck in Hearty Halibut Guts. And I don't see you opening your wallet, do I?

YOU'VE GOT MAIL!

To: Jausten

From: DaddyO

Subject: Magnificent Gift!

Wonderful news, Lambchop! I've just bought your mom the most magnificent Valentine's Day gift. A genuine pink diamond ring! For only fifty bucks! What a bargain, huh? I got it from a guy in the parking lot at Costco who gets his stuff wholesale and pa.s.ses on the savings to his customers. I can't wait to see your mom's face when she opens the box!

Love 'n' snuggles from,

Daddy

To: Jausten

From: Shoptillyoudrop

Subject: All I Really Want

Daddy's been dropping hints all week about what a fabulous Valentine's gift he bought me. Frankly, sweetheart, all I really want for Valentine's Day is a nice dinner at Le Chateaubriand where Daddy doesn't go running off to the bar every five minutes to check the sports scores.

XOXO,.

Mom